


The Not so Fine Art of Taming a Horse

by SnowRaptor



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Friendly banter, Gen, Just something cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowRaptor/pseuds/SnowRaptor
Summary: Kieran's just joined up with Dutch's crew, so Arthur takes him out to find a horse of his own.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The Not so Fine Art of Taming a Horse

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on my first play through of the game, so please please please no spoilers. I'm halfway through chapter 3 right now. 
> 
> This story takes place not too long after Kieran joins the crew, and it's just meant to be a little side story, written as if it was a silly little sidequest. There's no shipping, no romance, just Arthur going off on another damn fool errand.

The fire crackled peacefully as Arthur stared into it, half entranced by the dancing flames. The night was cool on his back, refreshing against the heat of the fire, but the logs strewn about were placed perfectly. One was never too hot, nor too cold.  
“Kid needs a horse.” The voice to Arthur's left startled him, and he jerked upright.  
“What?” he said, roughly, trying not to let Charles see that he had snuck up on him. Of course, Charles could probably sneak up on a grizzly, should he feel the need, but that was besides the point.  
Charles stepped over the log and sat gracefully next to Arthur, and nodded in the direction of the newest addition to their ranks.  
He followed the look to see Kieran, the damn O'Driscoll kid, grooming some of the cart horses with surprising care.  
“Whas wrong with the horses we got?” grunted Arthur, turning his attention back to the fire. It was a lot more interesting to look at, than some skinny suck up.  
“Arthur,” said Charles flatly, his voice pitched as if he was talking to a child. “Kid needs a horse that's his. Not one given to him like charity.”  
“Kids been round not even a week Charles, he don't need his own horse.”  
“Why not?”  
“Well, cause... Uh -” he froze for a moment. Of course he needed his own horse, everyone needed their own horse, but he wasn't about to admit as much to Charles, or anyone for that matter. Damn kid was an O'Driscoll, and the only reason he was here was because he'd saved Arthurs life. Kid was probably gonna bugger off sooner or later anyways, what was the point of wasting time on finding him a horse?  
“He'll feel like he belongs here, once he has his own horse,” Charles pushed, tossing the bits of grass he'd been picking apart in his hands into the fire.  
“He don't belong here.”  
“Why not? He saved your life, didn't he?”  
“I KNOW HE-” It wasn't quite a yell, but it was loud enough for some of the others in camp to turn their heads towards the campfire. Arthur growled wordlessly, and tried again. “I know he saved my life, dammit, but what does that have to do with him needin' a damned horse?”  
“Cause tomorrow you're gonna take him out to find him a horse to tame.” Charles flicked the last of the grass into the fire and stood up. He shrugged his shoulder and let his rifle slip down into his hands.  
“Why're you suddenly the boss o' me? Ain't that Dutch's job?”  
Charles just smiled slowly, gracing Arthur with one of his 'I'm a wise man and know better than you' sort of looks.  
“Kid needs a horse. You're the best one to take him out to get one.”  
“Me? Why me? _Dammit_ Charles -!” But he had already vanished into the darkness of the forest, presumably to take over on watch.  
Arthur stared into the fire some more, no longer tranquil, and instead mildly irritated. At Charles, at Kieran, at the damned O'Driscolls, and at the fact that he had even needed rescuing in the first place.  
He didn't _have_ to listen to Charles. Charles hadn't been riding with them for very long, not even a year, but something about Charles commanded respect, at least. It was kind of funny, Micah and Charles had joined up around the same time, but all Arthur wanted to do with Micah was strangle him. Slowly. Charles, he liked. Charles had useful talents. Charles wasn't an ass.   
“Auuughhh,” he let out a long suffering sigh. Fine. He'd do what Charles said. He wasn't going to _like_ it, but he'd do it.

* * *

  
The sunrise cresting over the edge of the bluff woke Arthur bright and early, as usual. He groaned quietly. One didn't live this sort of lifestyle and not get used to waking with the sun, but today the sun brought along a task he wasn't looking forward to.  
Might as well get it over with.  
He swung his legs out of his cot, and stumbled over to his shaving barrel. Once he had splashed a bit of water in his face, he felt a bit more ready for the day.  
Kieran himself was just waking up, and as Arthur made a beeline for his bedroll, the young man seemed to panic a bit. He looked frantically side to side, to see if there was anyone else besides him that Arthur could want, but there wasn't.  
“Get yer gear O'Driscoll, we're goin' out.”  
“I'm not an O'Driscoll,” he retorted automatically, before shrinking into himself a bit.  
Arthur didn't reply, but fixed him with an unblinking stare.  
“Where we goin?” He asked, shakily gathering his gun and hat. He nearly dropped his gun as he fumbled to get his hat on firmly, but Arthur caught the worn out repeater before it got very far.  
“Out. Let's go.”  
“Uh, sure.” He followed the older man hastily as he turned on his heel and strode away.  
“Oiy Dutch!” called Arthur, as he passed by the elaborate tent, music already drifting out from the phonograhs horn into the quite morning air.  
“Taking the kid out to find himself a Horse!”  
“A horse?” Kieran squeaked.  
“What's wrong with the horses we got?” Dutch asked indignantly, his voice overshadowing Kierans by a decibal or two.  
Arthur blinked and looked away, staring off across the camp at Charles, a dark shape just coming out of the trees. He couldn't see Charles' face from here, but he knew the bastard was smiling. Or smirking. One of the two. Possibly even snickering.  
“I don't bloody know,” he answered, waving to Kieran to precede him to the hitching posts, “Ask Charles, it was his idea.”  
Dutch threw his head back and laughed heartily, then nodded. “Carry on then.”  
“Yeah yeah,” His unenthusiastic reply only seemed to amuse Dutch even more, and the sounds of his chuckling followed the two of them all the way to the horses.  
“I-I really appreciate you takin' me out Mr. Morgan,” stuttered Kieran, his hat now in his hands at his chest, fidgeting with a small tear in the brim, “Thank you.”  
“Don't thank me,” replied Arthur gruffly, “Thank Charles.” He hoisted himself up onto the back of his newest mount, a skittish but fast little white Arabian. He'd just tamed her a few days before the whole mess with the O'driscolls and Kieran, had still hadn't settled on a good name for her. “Yeah, you're okay girl,” he murmured softly, patting her on the neck as she danced in place.  
“Mr. Duffy,” he said in an authoritative voice, as the young man started to look a bit unsure of exactly how he was going to be joining Arthur on the quest, “Borrow one of the cart horses for now, ye ain't ridin with me, that's for damn sure.”  
He jumped, flushing slightly, “Of course sir, of course!”  
It only took a few minutes for Kieran to pick one of the horses and saddle it. Arthur had to admit, as he watched, that the boy was good with the horses, and it seemed that the only time he wasn't nervous and cagey, was when he was working with the beasts.  
“C'mon then, let's go O'Driscoll,” Arthur wheeled his white lady neatly away from the camp as Kieran scrambled to mount.  
Kieran urged the sleepy mare into a trot, patting her neck in apology, as the white shape of Arthur's horse was already halfway down the trail out of camp.  
“ _I'm not an O'Driscoll!_ ”


End file.
